


autumn almanac

by anomalousity



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky, M/M, References to Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh man, when we get home we need to find ourselves a couple of girls.”</p><p>Steve glances to Bucky, laid out on his side and gazing up at Steve through drunken eyes. His trademark lopsided grin is splayed over his lips, and he's fiddling with the neck of the bottle of shitty beer he’s long since downed hours ago.</p><p>He shifts from the log to the ground, grimacing when the perpetual moistness of the earth seeps into his trousers. Bucky grins up at him when he finally settles in beside him, callously flinging his arm around his shoulders and pulling Bucky in close.</p><p>“Yeah,” he replies, smiling a little. “We do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	autumn almanac

“Oh man, when we get home we need to find ourselves a couple of girls.”

Steve glances to Bucky, laid out on his side and gazing up at Steve through drunken eyes. His trademark lopsided grin is splayed over his lips, and he's fiddling with the neck of the bottle of shitty beer he’s long since downed hours ago.

He shifts from the log to the ground, grimacing when the perpetual moistness of the earth seeps into his trousers. Bucky grins up at him when he finally settles in beside him, callously flinging his arm around his shoulders and pulling Bucky in close.

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling a little. “We do.” He always knows what Bucky’s angling for with these little musings, always knows the underlying truth behind every sister or best friend Bucky tries to set him up with.

Bucky hums his reply and shifts against Steve’s body. He’ll go on about some happy-go-lucky life in suburbia, or a life sharing beds with pretty girls without a care in the world. It’s a nice sentiment, at the very least. Impossible, but nice.

“Sisters,” he murmurs what seems like hours later, fingers knotting over Steve’s shirt. He anchors himself as he pulls himself closer. Most of the commandos have already headed off to their tents for the night, only Morita and Dernier still sit by the fire, drinking spirits and swapping tales of different girls back home. “They’ve gotta be sisters, Steve. How else ‘re we gonna be happy?”

Steve shrugs, watching as Morita pulls one last dredge from his flask before swiping his wrist over his lips. He pushes himself to his feet, nods in their direction, and walks away from the fire. Not long after, Dernier follows. “I don’t know, Buck.”

He spreads his legs when Bucky nudges them open, holds his arms out when Bucky settles in between his knees. His eyes are wide where he gazes up at Steve; honest. Plump lips are curled into a small grin as he traces a finger down Steve’s chest.

“Well,” he drawls, scooting closer. “I have a few ideas.”

Bucky’s lips are always a little clumsy against Steve’s for the first few kisses. It’s reassuring to know that, despite all of his experience with women and men alike, Bucky still retains some of that boyish nervousness. Though, eventually, the finesse catches up and his tongue swoops over Steve’s lower lip and Steve opens his mouth to Bucky.

The soldiers know, at least the commandos. The 107th is known to be one of the most liberal units of them all, and that’s no exception to folks of different tastes. Steve is well aware that he and Bucky aren’t the only ones getting too close in the barracks; hell, the only thing they’ve got on the rest of them is that they’ve been doing it since they were snot nosed brats in Brooklyn.

It really should bother Steve, and it does for other reasons, that sleeping with Bucky has become so taboo that no one bothers to argue with his explanations for the hickeys lingering on his or Bucky’s neck. Really, Steve shouldn’t even have to explain these things; at least Peggy humors him with a targeted smile and questions so glaringly obvious that even a brain dead Nazi could tell she knew of his and Bucky’s… transgressions.

He’s brought back to his body when Bucky’s lips slide from his own and down his neck. Warm fingers pry at his shirt, ruck it up his chest and tease at his ribs before sliding back down his stomach.

“Spread ‘em,” Bucky breathes once his lips trail down Steve’s chest. Nimble fingers unlatch his belt and tug his zipper down. Bucky’s index finger slides over the arc of his erection before pushing past his boxers and circling it. “I wanna suck you off.”  Steve isn’t given much of a chance to reply before Bucky’s nudging his legs further apart and pushing little kisses onto the already leaking head.

So he settles in for the ride.

Bucky’s tongue teases at the slit as his hand goes to work. He pushes Steve’s pants down far enough to finger at his balls, at the sensitive skin just before his asshole before he slides his fist back up against his lips. His cheeks hollow out as he hums around Steve, tongue flicking almost obscenely before he pulls off and grins.

“Well?”

Steve raises a brow. “Well?”

Bucky sighs and pushes up to kiss Steve’s lips. When he pulls away, he’s smiling something earnest. “Well, aren’t you gonna invite me into your tent? Or do you really expect me to let you fuck me out here.”

He does have a point. Steve waits until Bucky pushes himself to his feet, his erection already tenting in his trousers, before following suit. He entwines his fingers within his friend’s as they make their way to the tent, the faint hum of crickets chirping away in the French summer a relaxing presence below the soft crunch of their footsteps.

As soon as the flap breezes closed, Bucky is on him like glue. He shoves Steve onto the sleeping back and tugs at his waistband until Steve dutifully lifts his hips and kicks his pants and boxers off his thighs. His shirt is next to go, and the only thing warming him is the weight of Bucky’s lusty eyes tracing over his body like it’s something palatable.

“Damn,” he murmurs, cheeks going a little ruddy in the soft light. “You really did get bigger.”

Steve feels himself blushing before he can quell it. “Oh my _God_ , Bucky you did not just say that.” He shifts over the canvas, uncomfortable in his own skin as Bucky bites his lower lip into a reddened mess.

“What can I say, I’m a poet.” Bucky chuckles before pushing off his own trousers and tugging off his t-shirt. After all of Steve’s improvements and he still views Bucky as this big, unattainable goal. He watches the muscles of his gut ripple with each step, wets his lips when he focuses on the tendon flashing just below the crease of his thigh with each stride.

Steve gasps when Bucky settles onto his lap, thighs spread wide over Steve as he links his arms around his neck. It’s strange seeing Bucky so undone; even at their apartment in Brooklyn, Bucky was never given to taking what he so often loved to give.

Bucky whines when Steve pushes his first finger in.

“Ah, fuck Stevie,” he moans, tensing in Steve’s arms before going slack. “Just like that.” Steve crooks his finger around, widening Bucky as he searches out his prostate. He wonders what his finger feels like, newly calloused but still so smooth. Bigger too, but not to such a degree as the rest of his body.

Bucky groans when Steve adds another.

“Jesus, hurry up!” Bucky grinds his hips onto Steve’s arching fingers, circles around the intrusion as he pants out cusses and Steve’s name like a prayer. Steve’s free hand slides over Bucky’s back, over the rippling muscles and taut tendon when he braces his friend for another.

Bucky downright screams when he puts in his ring finger.

“ _Oh God, Steve, I want you in me. Fuck me, Steve, please!_ ” Bucky hisses in his ear, laps at his sweaty skin as he grunts and pushes against Steve’s fingers. He only hesitates a moment, only swirls them a few more times before pulling out and licking his palm. He strokes his cock a few times for good measure before lining himself up.

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut when Steve presses in, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He’s used to Bucky staying quiet when they make love like this. It’s a tradition neither of them really have the heart to break; not when Bucky was tracing over Steve’s ribs as he slowly thrust into him on that squeaky bed back in his mom’s apartment, and certainly not here where they could get court marshalled for even considering intercourse.

Steve wraps his hands around Bucky’s hips before cautiously sliding out. And then cautiously pushing in. Bucky’s sharp intake of breath urges him on, and with a little shifting and rearranging, he flips their positions. Bucky gasps a little when his back hits the cold floor, but he spreads his legs that much wider and smiles at Steve’s idea.

“Needed a better angle, soldier?”

Steve grunts before sliding his hands over Bucky’s, knotting their fingers together as he slowly fucks into him. Bucky is _tight_ , so tight that he worries the stretch might be too much. Bucky’s face reveals nothing, though Steve knows him better than that.

“Bucky,” he breathes, slowing until he’s surrounded by suffocating heat. “Bucky, are you okay?”

He receives confusion in response, followed by the wry twist of a snarky mouth. “I’m fine,” he replies, reaching up to brush some hair from Steve’s eyes. “Don’t worry about me, pal. I’m made out of steel.” Steve still doesn’t believe him, but when Bucky sighs and grinds his hips onto Steve, he isn’t really given much choice.

Bucky rolls them over so he’s straddled atop Steve’s hips. Slowly, he gyrates onto him, breathy gasps leaking from his mouth as he thrusts back and forth, in and out. It’s slow only for a moment, and when Bucky needs more, he plants his hands wide over Steve’s chest and grinds down with so much force it has Steve seeing stars.

“Fuck,” he moans, sliding his hands up Bucky’s thighs and letting them come to rest on the curve of his ass. “Bucky… _Ah!_ ”

Bucky only smirks as he grinds down harder, quiet moans turning sultry as he chews on his lip and pushes further, harder, _rougher_. His fingers dig into Steve’s skin, but Steve doesn’t care. He’s too focused on the half lidded stare Bucky is fixating him, blue-grey eyes pinned to Steve’s as he chants his name in a slow hymn.

And then, he’s clenching. And then, he’s coming.

Hot and fast, Bucky spills over onto Steve’s stomach. His lips part in a soundless scream, the only word escaping his cry is Steve’s name. Steve follows not long after, riding the coattails of Bucky’s orgasm and pushing up into his heat, coming into him despite knowing they’re going to have to clean up before everyone else.

Bucky slides off of Steve’s dick and curls up against his side. His breathing comes and goes in soft, slightly labored puffs until it slows to normal. Warm lips pepper kisses along Steve’s shoulder, his arm, his cheek and his lips. Steve returns them with a fervency that surprises both of them; he pulls Bucky over his body and cups his face as he slides his tongue over his friend’s lower lip.

When they break apart, breathing heavily and a little dizzy, Bucky smiles.

“What?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs before ducking down to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, tracing the slope of Steve’s cheek. “Just happy.”


End file.
